


Personal Notes (4) Giving in to fantasy

by longhairshortfuse



Series: Carlos's Secret Diary [4]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos's fantasy, Crush, M/M, Mild Smut, Mutual Masturbation, oops - interrupted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1663889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairshortfuse/pseuds/longhairshortfuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos copes well with having to talk to Cecil, about science, but can't stop fantasising when he is alone. And he does like to be alone sometimes!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Notes (4) Giving in to fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I got bored and wrote some very soft porn.

Lights

I visited Cecil at his outside broadcast location today near the petting zoo. I asked him to find out if any of his listeners witnessed strange lights over Radon Canyon last night. From my apartment window it looked like a laser show. When I went for a closer look, but not too close, I heard electronic noise like code transmission. Whatever it was, I will believe it to be sinister until the source is found. How this town has affected my thinking! I have become suspicious of everything unknown and there are so very many unknown agents at work here. I said that I was afraid for this town and its inhabitants, afraid that there are so many malevolent forces at work it is impossible to be sure of who is to be trusted. Cecil laughed it off, such a beautiful sound, and said something non-committal about asking the city council for a statement about their recent activities. 

He asked if I would do a live interview but I declined. I have made good progress in my ability to communicate whilst in the grip of whatever it is that he does to me. I can talk about science as long as I have prepared what I want to say, concentrate hard on some neutral object, a nearby black sedan for example, pretend I'm talking to Ell and don't look into those deep violet eyes or think about stroking that soft cappuccino skin. The moment he asked me something off topic or personal, or caught my eyes with his, I would become fizzy and fluttery and foolish on air. I suggested he interview Ell instead but he said no. His actual words and the slow, deliberate way he said them made my joints weak but my heart beat strong: _no, it's you I want._ If I had met his steady gaze I would have been lost. And why not, a part of me asks. It has been months since I ran here. I am afraid of getting it wrong again, misinterpreting actions and words that seem so clear but do not mean what I think, what I hope.

There was a strange mass-transference phenomenon today. Usually I can attribute the town's strange phenomena to energy anomalies but I suppose matter is just another form of energy so I shouldn't have been surprised. Billboards appeared overnight in places you wouldn't expect to find them, including Ell's work area, all carrying the same cryptic message. Ell got quite angry when she saw it and said that the word used was a concept invented by men to subjugate women who are not shy about sex. I don't know if I agree with her, I've never thought about it. We traced the mass-energy source back to a building belonging to the department of health. We were refused entry but they later released a statement claiming responsibility so I think we showed them that they can't get away with that kind of mistake. Ell was certainly very forthright in her disapproval and shouted loudly at their firmly closed door. I worry about her safety. I hope her shadow figure is capable of looking out for her.

Cecil called me with information about the lights. I was thankful for caller display, I could calm my nerves and steady my voice. I answered only just before it went to voicemail, although the prospect of having that warm and seductive voice recorded just for my ears was very attractive. I repeated my warnings and concern for the safety of us all.

In his show, Cecil talked about me again. He called me "this station's favourite scientist" and made some light-hearted comment about us not discussing weekend or dinner plans. I couldn't help smiling at that, wishing I could trust that it was real. I wondered about the security of his position at the station. He often relays terrible, oppressive news items with an admirably professional manner, not questioning what he is telling us, but then slips in something of his own in a way that seems open, accidental and innocent. Perhaps I am getting more familiar with his voice, the way he uses tone and language and timing to convey so much more than the meaning of the words. I fear for him.

Having met Cecil today then spoken to him on the phone was wonderful and terrifying. I think I held it together well enough. For the past few days I have tried to suppress my crush, not allowed my mind to wander far from scientific matters, working as late as I can, hoping for some emergency to keep my mind full and tire me so that I fall asleep as soon as I get back upstairs to my apartment. This time I had to let it out. I imagined how today might have been different if I was more forward, more trusting. I could have got the science talk out of the way and risked eye contact, maybe a smile although a nervous grimace would be more likely as I tried to suppress the urge to touch him. What if I failed? I sat on the couch in my apartment and closed my eyes. I could picture him perfectly, hear his voice in my imagination. 

I conjured up a scene where Cecil called me again and said he had important scientific information to discuss with me and could he come round. Of course my imagination said yes. I imagined him knocking on the door, me inviting him into the little hallway, maybe offering him a drink... or maybe not getting that far before I... no, too fast. 

I played the start of the scene to myself over until it felt right. He would come in and I would offer him a drink. We would sit together on the little couch or opposite each other at the table... no, the couch, share a bottle of Californian zinfandel and talk about science. I might ask him about the unusual colour of his eyes, an excuse to call him beautiful. We would touch by accident and laugh it off, then play-fight like a couple of teenagers. He would say something about my hair and I would let him stroke it away from my face. I would gaze into his eyes without fear, hold his head in both of my hands and kiss his purple, wine-stained lips gently, testing his reaction. He would pull away a little as if surprised then respond, kiss me in return with his fingers gently stroking my hair and the back of my neck, sending shivers all the way down my back. 

The door. Shit, there was someone at the door. I answered it cautiously and found Ell standing there, asking if I wanted pizza. No, no I didn't. She asked if I was feeling okay. I nodded and said I was tired, and she left.

I sat down again, shut my eyes, and started my fantasy over from the beginning, only on fast forward. We would kiss gently at first then harder, teasing each other's lips and tongue. I would loosen his tie and unbutton the crisp formal shirt he wore to work, slip my hands around him and stroke his bare skin. He would help me out of my lab-coat then lean back, pulling me over on top of him. I would gaze into those eyes again and ask him what he wanted... no, no words. I would pull myself up enough to reach his belt and loosen his waistband then slip my hand around his growing erection. He would moan no and then yes, yes through our kisses, whilst unfastening my jeans and pushing them down. We would move to my bed... no, moving might break the flow, best stay on the couch. 

From the beginning again. I lay back, unfastened my jeans and slipped my hand inside my boxers to stroke the length of my erect penis with my fingers then clasped it gently and began to move slowly at first, then harder and faster as I imagined Cecil and I masturbating each other until we both came at the same time, arching and pressing into each other as semen pumped from us both. We would lie still and catch our breath, not talking, then kiss with warmth and affection. Maybe a little heat. He would leave, but text me almost straight away to arrange our next discussion.

What a mess. When I can imagine just being close to Cecil without this burning need, holding a "normal for Night Vale" conversation without forgetting how to talk, making eye contact without staring, then perhaps I can ask him if he would like dinner... no, coffee, just coffee first.


End file.
